kineticcajun | Appointments

[She'd meant to keep an eye on Oliver while Remy was away. Truly. She'd meant to keep herself calm while sitting around the empty and too quiet apartment. And if it had taken a few shots of gin and a halfhearted nap to manage it, well.

It didn't change the fact that she couldn't save most of his wardrobe.

Especially the coat.

Mostly the coat.

Oliver was a bloated, lethargic mess next to her on the sofa. Too much leather. And not but a scrap of a cuff left to show that Gambit had ever had a leather duster to begin with.

Rems was going to be pissed.]

[There's something horribly draining about having his mutation messed with, and that's really the only thing Remy can focus on as he trudges his way back to his apartment. There's always a minor disorientation when leaving, say, the tunnels, but after it's been in effect for a few days? Even if he's adjusting to having full powers moved back down to Luceti level? Nothing seems right. Stuff either starts sparking or he can't seem to balance as well until things level out again. Royal pain in the neck.

It's probably a good thing he's more focused on the readjusting mutation, because otherwise he might be focusing too much on the fact that he's making his way through the village in nothing but hot pink, slightly billowy pants and a pair of what he has dubbed elf shoes. Thankfully, they do not have bells on. He's not entirely sure where he put his normal clothes down on the mission, but wherever it was, it was a dumb place to put them down.

Grumbling under his breath as the doorknob sets off sparks beneath his fingertips, he pushes into the apartment. The tribble's bloated state is overlooked in favor of the other occupant of the sofa. An exhausted, but still cheerful smile twitches onto his face.]

Since when do I get a welcomin' committee?

[She's reclining, Oliver fluffed up and overplump under her crossed ankles, her head pillowed on the arm of the sofa. She tilts her head back, blinking at Rems upside down.

...

what the hell was he wearing?]

Since you walk home dressed as a clown, Chou-chou. And since Oliver needed minding.

[And since she's had infrequent flashes of being somewhere else entirely- though she'd managed to avoid it well enough to this point. Of course when Rems walks in and is staring at her does one flare up, her eyes glaze over and everything smells like fire and ash, it's too hot and he's screaming-

Adele blinks again, and she's returned to herself mentally. Back on the sofa with Oliver literally underfoot.]

[That. Something just happened there. He thinks. The blink seemed a bit odd, but he decides to let it slide just this once and see what's going on instead. Kicking off the elf shoes into the corner, he pads into the living room.]

Coulda sworn I put that t'ing under his box 'fore I left. [Unceremoniously, he flops down into his arm chair, and locks Adele with a mischievous grin that is perfect cover for keeping a close eye on her.] An' don't go knockin' the acrobat duds. Ain't jus' any guy who can pull off hot pink pants.

He worked himself free...I would have to guess a day ago. Or possibly earlier.

[She snorts and props herself up on an elbow. Feigning normalcy. Well, as normal as she could be with a tribble underfoot and a comic character to her right.]

Or fuchsia body armor under a leather duster.

[A day ago. Possibly earlier. Remy's eyes narrow as they slide over to take in Olivier again. That's the same bloated look the damn thing had after it ate part of his last coat.

But Adele is comfortable on the sofa and he's tired anyway, so rather than let his suspicions rile up too quickly, he approaches this cautiously. And with an oh-so-weary tone.]

How bad's the damage?

[Because if the tribble looks this lethargic, he's bound to be missing a few shirts, at least.]

...All you have at the moment are the clothes you are wearing, one tie dye t-shirt, and one pair of socks.

The rest and your coat are...well. [She lifts a foot and lets it fall back down onto Oliver, the bloated tribble giving a half hearted burp.]

I am sorry Rems.

[His coat. Again. There should be a surge of irritation at that, but oddly, nothing is forthcoming. He glares halfheartedly at the tribble, knowing that once he's less exhausted, he's bound to be a lot more aggravated.]

One of these days... I'm gonna figure out how to kill that t'ing.

When you find out, let me know.

[She reaches over to the coffee table and pours Remy a finger of whiskey with one hand. She'd been sipping it on and off most of the evening.]

Will do.

[The level of whiskey is definitely a little lower than he was expecting, but he accepts her offer gratefully, knocking back the liquor without hesitation. It's been a really long day. Long weekend, for that matter. And she doesn't look like she's had it much better.]

So what've you been up to since I left? [And are you okay? It might go unsaid, but it's clear in his expression.] 'Sides watchin' the fuzzball, that is.

[To the question, she shrugs. Pours them both another finger of whiskey and nurses hers rather than shooting it. Sleep hasn't come easy, if at all, and the entire time she's been in Gabmit's apartment she's had the off and on flickers of visions. Always bloody, always Rems. It was starting to annoy her.]

The usual. Clinic shifts. Performances at Cloud Nine. Keeping an eye on Lupin. Trying to sleep.

[Remy starts to pick up the whiskey, but puts it back down gingerly when it immediately starts to give off a faint violet light. He. Really needs to get better at adjusting after these missions.

"Trying to sleep" makes him glance up at her again, sharply.]

Doc, how long's it been since you slept a whole night?

...

[That glowing. That, she knew couldn't be right. There was no reason for him to charge a glass. Adele props herself up on one elbow to offer Remy a pointed look. It matched Remy's own skeptical expression for the most part, even if hers was infinitely more tired.]

Two, perhaps three days.

[He can see the skepticism in her eyes and decides to just ignore it. She hasn't been getting enough sleep. Readjusting to his mutation working-- well, closer to what it should be -- is hardly the same thing.

The concern still strong in his eyes, he tries to take the edge off his warning with a small joke. Even though he fully means what he says.]

Don' make me sing you a lullaby. Ain't gonna be fun for anybody if I do.

I've been taking naps in the afternoon for the most part Rems. Night is just...too dark. To quiet. [She pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head; telling Remy not to worry won't help. Lying wasn't an option. So she remains honest as best she can.]

Your voice is not so very terrible.

Is it?

[Too dark, too quiet. Well, he can definitely fix both of those things easily enough. He might be worn down after the mission, but Adele comes before a nap, thanks.]

I ain't much of a singer, doc. Henri used to tell me dogs were howlin' whenever I sang. [His smile is small, but meant to try to ease her nerves.] Ain't that bad, though. Promise.

[He tries to pick up his drink again, careful not to charge it. Success!]

I can make plenty'a noise if you wanna stay here for now.

You've never heard my mother sing, then. [She manages a half smile and sits up fully. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Not with what she's been seeing.]

I'll be fine Rems. Once you're settled I'll head out for the night.

S'gonna be a while 'fore I'm settled. [For various reasons, not the least of which being that he wants to be damn sure he isn't accidentally charging anything before he tries to sleep. It's been years since he woke himself up with something exploding or burning and it's not something he cares to repeat. Besides, shaky control over his mutation only digs up memories of Sinister, and he really doesn't want to focus on any of that right now.]

Might as well make yourself nice an' comfy.

Were I any more comfortable, Rems, I would resemble your orange pet.

[She manages a wry chuff of a laugh, nudging Oliver with a foot. The orange tribble made a low noise and twitched a bit. Otherwise? nothing. It's easier to focus on the surreal nature of that bit of madness than it was the odd flickers in her own mind.

Of course that's when there was another odd flicker. She goes still. Locks up and glares a hole into the far wall. Not now. She's exhausted, Rems is tired, not now.]

[Oookay, that's a look that'll set him on alert instantly. Tired as he is, he's straightened up and fixed keen eyes on her, ready to jump to his feet if need be. Hopefully it won't come down to that, though. Hopefully, a low and steady voice will help enough.]

Easy now, doc. Jus' us an' the fuzzball here.

[She can't quite stop it. The twisted shade of Gambit mocks her this time in a bloody heap and were she alone she'd swear. Rant at the wall. All these do now is leave her sick and angry-

But the familiar lifeline of Gambit's voice helps her pull herself back to the present. Adele blinks at the wall, scrubs her face, and sags back against the sofa with a muted swear.]

I...I know. I'm sorry Rems.

[He doesn't jump to his feet, but he does get up and ease over to perch on the edge of the sofa near her. One hand goes to rest gently on her shoulder - he'll pull it back if she flinches, but he means to show support.]

Hey. Ain't nothin' to be sorry 'bout. Not your fault.

[She doesn't flinch under his hand, but he'll feel how knotted up and locked tight she was. Braced to fight or flee until the vision passes. Low, rough, frustrated she lets slip another swear, pinching the bridge of her nose.]

No one's fault. Just...wrong place, wrong time, yes?

[Yeah, he feels that knot. Absently, but still gently, he rubs her shoulder to try to help relieve the tension.]

Damn shame how often that kinda t'ing happens.

[It helps. More than she'll ever admit, the contact grounds her. She leans into it a little, like a cat, and sighs.]

Seems to be the only sort of luck I have in this place Rems.

August 19th, early evening

kineticcajun - 2012-09-19 21:44 (UTC) - Expand

August 19th, early evening

fleurdesel - 2012-09-20 05:23 (UTC) - Expand